


The Thief

by ryanglitter



Category: The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:26:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25767406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryanglitter/pseuds/ryanglitter
Summary: SkekMal is running out of room for his trophies, and he's been hiding them around the woods, only they've been disappearing. Who could have taken them? And most importantly, did urVa like the gift that skekMal gave him in my previous fic?
Relationships: skekMal/urVa (Dark Crystal)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	The Thief

**Author's Note:**

  * For [skekMal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skekMal/gifts).



> For my amazing friend skekMal, whose wonderful, wonderful writing and roleplaying has helped me appreciate Mal more than ever! Happy birthday to you! ♥
> 
> There is a reference to the Good Omens tv show at one point. 
> 
> I'm also referencing my previous fic "Unusual Gifts", in which skekEkt and skekAyuk exchange anniversary gifts. Also if you enjoy this you'll love "Token for the Dead" by skekMal, which is a hidden scene from my fic (how incredible is that!!!! ♥)

With great care, gently even, skekMal placed his newest trophy in the hollow of a tree, and covered it with moss. He had cleaned the skull as he always did, even though he no longer had any room to keep it… except, of course, if he could bear to replace any of the trophies he currently carried on his person. He hoped that the hiding place was good enough. As of recently, every time when he returned for his hidden prizes, it seemed that Gelfling had already stolen them, and it would have been more trouble than it was worth to go after them all. This one would have been such a shame to lose, though. It was a desert beast, and it had put up a tough fight. 

Not all his opponents were worthy of such reverence, of course. Some he hunted merely out of hunger. Even urVa did that, for he had eventually understood that he could not sustain the life he led by consuming only that which sprouted from the ground or fell from the trees. SkekMal had convinced him to see reason long ago: he could eat as many berries and mushrooms as he wished, and he could drink his cursed tea, but if he wished to stay strong, it was imperative that he should feast on the flesh of beasts.

The Archer wasn’t a fool, he was merely beyond frustrating – he was loath to admit that he enjoyed the taste of meat, no matter how eagerly he ate, but he politely complimented urAmaj’s tasteless gruel, which he could barely stomach. He fought, but only in self-defense, or in the defense of others. He slept under a tree, and made arrows of its branches. Such was his way.

SkekMal’s first time helping urVa was when he offered him half of his prey. His last time was quite recently, when the Ornamentalist asked him to hunt something … for the kitchen … and agreed to sew anything that skekMal wished. In exchange for the carcass of the beast whose skull he had just hidden away… he requested that he make something for urVa to wear. 

It wasn’t that skekMal had done something entirely selfless, far from it. All Skeksis knew that any injury inflicted upon their bodies would also be felt by their respective Urru, and yet very few stopped to think about how this reality might affect them from the opposite angle. It was also true, however, that most Skeksis could simply ignore the very existence of their counterparts.

SkekMal did not have such a luxury. 

UrVa was equally as active as himself; he liked to roam the forests of Thra, to feel the pulse of the world, to listen to the wind. Even more perhaps he liked to shoot his arrows and secretly defend useless Gelfling from predators. Just like the Hunter was a legend of fear among the Gelfling, the Archer was a myth of hope. Regardless of how skekMal felt about that, he did appreciate how different urVa was from his kind, how much more he was… like himself. 

There was joy in his rapid movement, there was a spark in his eye when he bested his attackers, even if he never did attack first, there was a look of satisfaction on his face when his arrow met its target. In his mind there was a true understanding of the world around him, and in his heart there was a strong love of life, even if not just his own. Not that urVa would ever admit any of this, not even to himself, least of all to skekMal. 

And yet, the matter remained that urVa ran through the woods, swam in the rivers, fought strong beasts when he had no other choice, and to have him fall prey to them was something that skekMal could never allow to happen.

Such fools they were, the other Skeksis. If skekMal were Emperor, he would simply order all his fellow Lords of the Crystal to march upon the Valley, capture every Urru, and imprison them all in the Castle, in complete safety from anything that might threaten their pathetic lives.

UrVa was different. SkekMal trusted his ability to survive. 

With every new victory, they both grew stronger. When one was injured – most frequently, skekMal – the other would immediately take it upon himself to aid with the healing, and it always worked faster when they both helped. The two of them were both equally selfish, even if one was more honest about it than the other. 

It really was all about the fact that urVa needed proper clothing that could stand the test of time. His visits to the Valley were becoming increasingly rare, and not to mention that urUtt, with his self-righteous aversion to scissors and needles, was useless at mending tears made by the claws of beasts. The Archer needed real armor, he needed leather, he needed proper equipment for a fighter, not some fragile piece of cloth made for a lazy, wretched slug.

The Hunter had chosen to deliver the Ornamentalist’s creation to urVa while he slumbered peacefully at the roots of the Sanctuary Tree. He needed no confirmation that the clothing fit; after all, he knew urVa well enough that he was able to describe his body to skekEkt in such great detail that no measurements were needed.

Most importantly, he needed no gratitude from his counterpart. SkekMal had simply been presented with an opportunity to do a trade, and he had asked for something that would benefit them both… truly, that was all there was to it, he told himself.

*

An arrow was shot at his feet – a familiar sight, a summon, a challenge. 

When they were new to the world, he would break each arrow in two, just to make him mad. Soon enough he found that it made no difference to urVa whether he broke the arrows or he left them for him to retrieve later, like a childling picking flowers in a meadow. The Archer was annoyingly difficult to provoke. 

Arrow by arrow, jump by jump, skekMal followed the trail, knowing all too well that they only ever led him on a hunt that he could never win, to meet the only creature whose strength he could never claim. He had longed for it once, when they were still young, but if the only way that he could add the Archer’s power to his own was for two to become one again, he would have much preferred for both of them to perish. Since then, the Hunter had made peace with the idea that the other strongest creature on Thra simply didn’t count as a contestant at all. 

However, this was an old tale, and now was not the time to dwell on it. Now was the time to run, to chase, to catch. UrVa was far quicker than any Mystic, and he moved silently too. One could only discern his position judging by the angle from which the arrows came, and skekMal could easily do that, but he did prefer to let the Archer hide. 

He was looking forward to meeting urVa; he hadn’t seen him since that morning when he left the package next to him. Was he wearing his new clothes now? SkekMal found that he was curious to see him in them. 

Soon, he discovered that he was being led on a path that he had not explored before, thinking that it led to a dead end. It did not. The last arrow pointed to the entrance to a cave, concealed by ivy. UrVa then appeared by his side, landing from a tree. He was indeed wearing the new clothes, and they looked… right. 

“Hello, skekMal.”

“Archer. Why am I here?” He hoped that urVa had not summoned him just to thank him. “What is this?”

“It is a cave.”

SkekMal grumbled. That was obvious enough. 

“What is in there?”

“Why don’t you see for yourself?” urVa asked, and led him in himself, parting the ivy curtain. 

Inside they both went. It was dark, but there were torches inside, revealing rocks hanging from the ceiling and rising from the ground; it looked very much like the mouth of a giant Skeksis. 

“I happened to notice that you have been abandoning your trophies”, said urVa all of a sudden, and skekMal frowned; he knew that urVa never took trophies of his own, and he disapproved of the practice.

“What of it? Does it make you glad that I have no choice but to leave some of my prizes behind? If you’re here to lecture me again, Archer…”

“Not this time. Not after what you did for me, skekMal. You were… remarkably nice.”

Nice. SkekMal grabbed urVa by his fresh new clothes and pinned him to the wall at eye level.

“I am the Hunter. I am not nice”, he growled, while urVa stayed insufferably calm, as was his habit… and gazed towards his beak, as if he could think of nothing but rubbing it with his nose. SkekMal sighed and dropped him. “…Why are we here, Archer? Tell me now!”

“I’m glad you asked.”

UrVa led him further in, and that was when skekMal saw: all of his stolen trophies were there, at the cave’s end, arranged neatly on some kind of table made of rocks. 

“So this is where those thieving Gelfling took them! I will wait for them here, and when they return, I’ll crush them!” 

The Arched smiled most quizzically.

“There are no thieves, skekMal. I brought them all here. For you. This cave is very old, and the Gelfling seem to believe it’s haunted, so they do not even approach it. You can bring your trophies here in peace.”

“… For me? What game are you playing, Archer? I thought you hated my trophies.”

“No game. I simply wished to do something n—”

SkekMal closed his hand around urVa’s mouth, closing it, and despite himself, he let his hand linger a few moments longer than necessary. UrVa smiled and said nothing. How irritating that smile was, how absurdly contagious, how irresistible…

“Are you hungry? Let us go catch something to eat”, the Hunter spoke. “And I suppose you can make some of that tea of yours to wash it down.”

“Very well.”

SkekMal followed urVa outside, and something told him that they would end up having a most marvelous night.

**Author's Note:**

> P.S. The idea of the Skeksis capturing the Mystics to guarantee their survival belongs to my amazing mom!
> 
> Thank you for reading! ♥


End file.
